Related Links

The Pistons still bear the embarrassing scars of a franchise that devours and spits out coaches, so much so that any coach who makes it past his second year is eligible for a commemorative gold watch in honor of his longevity.

Shedding such a negative label is like scraping a sticker off a car's rear bumper. Rarely is it fully erased.

Something lingers. Something reminds you, or worse, reminds others, of a disappointing history you can't shake.

Lawrence Frank should remember that.

He still won't elaborate Monday why he deactivated Rodney Stuckey just prior to the Pistons' 104-102 victory at Orlando on Sunday night. It was simply the ubiquitous "coach's decision."

By all indications, whatever precipitated Frank's decision didn't reach the level of "buffoonery" that underscored some of the Pistons' more comically caustic past disruptions. It could very well have been little more than the customary bombast between player and coach. And it's up to the coach to remind the player who's the boss.

But Frank and the organization must remember that the Pistons have lost all benefit of the doubt when it comes to the mercurial relationship between coach and player.

When a franchise discards coaches with the same regularity one would a used Kleenex, any suggestion of potential friction between coach and player justifiably triggers red flags.

Deal with it, Lawrence.

Don't like the third degree? Tough!

The longer everyone stays quiet, the more mistrustful everyone becomes that this wasn't any ho-hum disciplinary action -- especially because it involves Stuckey. The Pistons gave him a head-scratching three-year, $25-million extension last season even though he had been an integral facet of the corrosive culture that disintegrated coaching careers in Detroit the last five years.

Stuckey was part of one of the ugliest days in NBA history in 2011 when some Pistons openly revolted against John Kuester by skipping the shoot-around in Philadelphia.

Mutiny is something that's a little difficult forgetting and forgiving.

The Pistons believed there was something salvageable in Stuckey, but right now he's nothing more than a marginal role player with the second-highest salary on the team. That, in and of itself, could create some player-coach combustibility. One of the motivations for inking Stuckey to that extension was that it was a movable contract if the Pistons wanted to deal him at the deadline, but he might now be untradeable regardless of how innocent the team makes this episode look.

Something else to consider: The Eastern Conference is a mess.

The Pistons could be a playoff team with only 38 victories (along with 44 losses). The conference is that bad.

Helping their situation is that Boston -- the current eighth playoff seed, just four games ahead -- just lost its best player, point guard Rajon Rondo, for the remainder of the season with a torn ACL. The conference easily could get two sub-.500 teams into the playoffs for easy first-round sacrifice.

What's most important for the Pistons isn't making the playoffs, though, but whether all involved can successfully navigate the inevitable disagreements and disturbances inside the locker room without it escalating into something more poisonous.

Maybe the Stuckey benching wasn't a big deal, but the Pistons' peculiar silence -- along with their recent combative history -- suggests they still haven't learned anything from their prior mistakes.